


One Way or Another

by cakeisnotpie



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Clint never believed Phil was dead, Clueless Clint, Clueless Phil, FTC, Fix-It, Fuck the Canon, I do what I want, M/M, Stalking, Where has Clint been, fill in the blanks, watching from afar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You remember how Coulson always said that every Shakespeare play could be either a tragedy or a comedy? That there was one moment when the decision was made that lead to a happy ending or a dark one?”</p><p>“When Benedict confronts Claudio at the duel in Much Ado or the letter to Romeo goes awry. Yeah, that was one of Phil’s favorite theories.” Clint could see the compassion in his friend’s eyes as she looked at him, and it unnerved him.</p><p>“This is the moment, Clint. Is this the type of story where you go on missing each other for the rest of your lives, some French existential drama that has no closure? Or is this one of those romantic comedies where you realize how wrong you’ve been and chase him down to tell him?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Way or Another

**Author's Note:**

> This started life as a little drabble about Clint knowing Phil was alive the whole time. Somewhere along the way it became a "what the hell has Clint been doing while Tony fights the Mandarin, Thor fight the Dark Elves, Steve takes down the helicarriers, and HYDRA makes it move." It's especially the answer to why Clint isn't right in the middle of helping Phil. And, as usual, fluffy feels made their way into it. Hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> I played loose and fast with the time line, but they aren't really clear how much time passes between the movies anyway, so I took liberties.

“To Phil.” Tony raised his white Styrofoam cup, the only voice in the silence of the half-demolished restaurant. “He was the Agent to the very end.”

That got Clint’s attention; he levered his head up despite the bone deep weariness that was eating away at him. “Phil?”

“Oh, shit, Katniss. Sorry. Forgot you didn’t know.” Tony quickly sat the drink down on the red and white checked paper liner. “Um, Phil went up against Loki by himself. Tried to stop him escaping.”

“The Son of Coul died a warrior’s death; he blasted his foe even as he lay dying,” Thor said, his volume as soft as Clint had ever heard.

“He was good man.” Steve turned his concerned gaze Clint’s way. “I wished I’d gotten a chance to know him better.”

“Wait, wait. Phil is dead? You saw his body?” Clint, every muscle complaining, sat up and dropped his leg off of Natasha’s chair. “Checked for a pulse? Anyone?”

They looked at each other, confusion evident. “Well, no,” Steve said.

“I wasn’t on the carrier when it happened,” Bruce added.

“Nor I,” Thor said. “I know only because Tony told us before you arrived at the tower.”

“Fury said the medics were there and Coulson was dead,” Tony said then he stopped. “No, Fury said they called it.”

“Tessa?” Clint waited for Natasha’s response.

She shrugged and chewing on her shawarma. “You know Fury,” was all she said.

“Are you suggesting Fury lied to us?” Steve asked, the anger flitting across his face animating his movements for the first time in the last half hour since they’d sat down at the table. “That’s … that’s … unconscionable.”

“That’s Fury. Spy Master Extraordinaire.” Clint picked up his food and took a bite, suddenly hungry. “Probably for the best if Phil stays dead for a bit. Good ammunition against the WSC; look, I built your big ass guns and, not only did it do nothing to stop Loki, it got my one good eye killed.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Bruce asked, surprised. “Both of you?”

Clint glanced at Natasha who blinked once. “Yep. Although I wouldn’t mind if Stark here wants to snoop a bit so we can keep tabs on Phil’s recovery.”

“Damn straight,” Tony said. “We’ll find out all of Fury’s secrets.”

* * *

 

“Nothing. Not a freakin’ single byte of data,” Tony groused as he flopped down on the couch in the media room. Three months had gone by and there’d been no memorial service, no body, not even Phil’s name on the Academy wall. Tony had started combing through SHIELD’s files soon after the Battle of New York, setting up an elaborate indexing system to cull through the huge amount of data he’d downloaded. He also kept a rotating key code matrix so no one would find JARVIS’s entry points, one that rewrote itself every time SHIELD issued a software update. “Phil’s records stop the day of the helicarrier attack with just a DOA notice amended.”

“That’s weird,” Bruce said, tucking his bowl of popcorn away from Tony’s grabby hands. “There should be all sorts of personnel paperwork – benefit payouts, insurance, final reports.”

“True.” Tony whipped out his mini-tablet and started making notes. “JARVIS, we need to look for insurance and benefits, HR forms. They might be on a different server.”

“You know Fury’s got secret stashes of files everywhere, right?” Clint vaulted over the back of the couch and snagged the remote; still on the WSC’s shit list, Clint was on suspension and house arrest until his fate was decided. Tony’s phalanx of lawyers and PR people had made it possible for Clint to ‘serve his time’ at the Tower in case the Avengers were needed.  “Like official personnel files and then the notes and things you don’t want anyone to find tucked away in a filing cabinet in a different building. Fury’s secret files have secret files.” He flipped the TV over just in time to catch the opening strains of the big band theme song of _Dancing with the Stars_.

“We are not watching reality TV crap,” Tony complained, but he was too busy feeding new parameters into his tablet to take the remote away.

“Hey, no way in hell am I telling Phil that I missed the season with Bill Nye the Science Guy! Phil and I always picked teams and bet on the winners. He’s a big Derek fan, damn him, and I like to root for Maks even though he’ll never rein his mouth in long enough to win.” Clint pulled a bag of Swedish fish from his pocket and offered it to Bruce. “If Derek wins again, I’ll owe him a six pack of his favorite microbrew.”

“ _Supernanny_ and _Dancing with the Stars_. Agent had excellent taste in TV,” Tony groused.

“And _Hoarders_. Made him feel like his house was clean.” Clint settled in to watch the show.

“Agent wasn’t OCD neat at home? And, wait, you’ve been to his place?” Tony asked.

“Phil was a real person, Tony. And yes, we hung out at his place. It was a lot nicer than mine. Or at least it was before they both were destroyed in the battle. Now hush, here come the contestants. Ten bucks for whoever guesses the first one voted off.”

“You’re on,” Bruce said. “I’m going for Billy Dee Williams. Man just had hip surgery.”

“Et tu, Brucie?” Tony moaned.

* * *

 

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Clint suggested. He was strapped into the co-pilot seat of the brand new jet. First time out in Tony’s fancy new ride and Clint was more than happy to handle the smooth controls. It added variety to his training and workout schedule that was getting repetitive while he waited. At least he had an appointment with Fury early next week; he hoped to final hear the verdict on his status with SHIELD. “Maybe we shouldn’t focus on what’s happening right now.”

“Time travel ain’t an option, Merida.” Tony held onto the roll bar, watching as Natasha and Clint put the plane through its paces. “I don’t know where Phil will be.”

“But we know where he was. Whatever Fury’s plan, it’s taking a long time and is very deeply buried. That takes development, money, and effort, and it had to have already been in process long before Loki. If Nick wanted to run a top secret project off the books, there are very few people he’d trust with it. Seems to me Phil was gone a while back … before Thor landed in New Mexico but after you went all Iron Man on us. All he could say was it was an off-the-record op. You remember that, Nat? We had tickets to the Islanders vs. the Black Hawks and I ended up taking Jasper instead. Phil was pretty put out about missing the game; it was my night to pay for the burgers.”  Clint banked steeply, feeling the g force stabilizers level out without a hitch. “He came back sunburned and pretty upset from that other op too, just after New Mexico. Complaining about Fury pushing the envelope. I stopped by the drugstore to get him some medical strength aloe vera gel and ice packs.”

“You think Fury had him working on a way to bring someone back from the dead? And you ran errands for Phil and went to hockey games? Seriously, I’m beginning to think you two had a bromance going on,” Tony joked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Natasha muttered under her breath. “But, yes, there was definitely something up; I saw Phil meeting with Dr. Steiten before Pegasus started. I was worried, so I checked; he wasn’t seeing him as a physician, but I couldn’t find any info on a project they had in common.”

“Okay, so I go backwards and see what Agent Agent was up to,” Tony agreed.

“And we flag certain people to watch for future contact. No way’s Phil going to listen to the doctor’s advice and stay on bed rest as long as they want. He’s going to be chaffing at the bit to be up and back to work as soon as possible,” Clint said as they hit airspace over the ocean and Natasha gunned the engine to see what it would do.

“Fury’ll let Phil pick his own team, making sure to get his own man on the inside, someone to keep an eye on Phil’s health. There’s not that many people Phil would go to … you and I are out of the question since we’re part of the Initiative and far too high profile now. Maria will know once Phil’s back in the game, but she’s grounded as Assistant Director. My money’s on Blake, Hand or Sitwell,” Natasha said.

“Melinda May,” Clint added. Melinda and Phil went way back. Way, way back with some history and baggage, but Phil wouldn’t hesitate to let her guard his back.

“She’s on desk duty by choice,” Natasha reminded him.

“Yeah, but you know she’d do it if it was for Phil.” Clint grinned. “Some serious UST there, but Phil was too blind to see it.”

Natasha snorted, rolled her eyes, and took the jet into a controlled dive.

* * *

 

Darla: _Heading to store. Need anything?_

Clint tossed the burner phone into the broken sewer grate after he took out the battery and removed the SIM card. Both of those went into different piles of garbage that littered the back alleys he traversed, head down, hoodie pulled tight. He was on the trail of a terror watch list suspect in the worst part of Detroit, MI. He jacked the first peace of shit car he found that would start and drove to the Twelve Oaks Mall, shedding his hoodie and replacing it with an American Eagle t-shirt and Oakley shades before he hit the Apple store. Surfing quickly to Darla Owens twitter page, he looked at the last tweet.

_OMG! He’s so hot when he’s angry. www.cnn.com/breaking+news/03052013/stark+calls+out+mandarin_

“God damn it,” Clint muttered as he scanned the story. “What are you up to Stark?”

“I know, right?” The guy in the blue polo shirt and khaki pants stopped by Clint’s elbow. His nametag proclaimed he was Edgar. “I mean, he’s Iron Man and everything, but this Mandarin dude is seriously creepy.” He smiled at Clint, looking him over from head to toe. “And how can I help you today?”

After buying a new iPad mini, complete with all the bells and whistles, Clint hit the food court, grabbed a slice of pizza and logged on to the free Wi-Fi.  He trolled four chat boards, posting on family counseling sites as Rich Owens, before Natasha popped up on imessage.

_DO: Big Bro is crazy._

_RO: You two fighting again? I thought you were home._

_DO: I’m at Dad’s.  Nobody’s happy._

_RO: Want me to run interference?_

_DO: No, he needs you there. Get the house closed up and ready for him to move._

_RO: Just about done. Be home soon._

_DO: Don’t let his worship of Big Bro get to you._

_RO: Not a problem. Don’t kill him before I get back._

Clint waited but Natasha didn’t reply. Shutting the window and sitting back in his chair, Clint rolled it over in his head. Nat was with Fury and he was pissed at Tony’s grandstanding. But even worse, the man Clint was trailing was linked to the Mandarin. He needed to find this guy and see what he could get out of him and fast.

For a second, Clint wished that he could call Phil, hear that calm voice talk through various options with him. Whatever game Fury was playing, Clint sincerely hoped it would be over soon. Phil would tell him to get off his ass, find his target and keep an eye on Tony. He’d also ask Clint to buy him a Detroit Lions hat for his collection, the one Clint had started way back the first time he went on a mission without Phil.  Glad to be back at work, even if it was off the books and yet more of Fury’s double-secret password boy band shit, Clint was man enough to admit he was getting worried about Phil. And that he missed the man.

Pushing back from the table, Clint took a second to wipe the memory of the iPad and slip it back in the store bag. Sitting two tables away, a twelve-year-old boy with skin the color of caramel had on a Captain America shirt; his mother was juggling twin preschoolers, cute girls with big brown eyes who were determined to shove as many fries in their mouths as possible.  They were sharing one order for the whole table, six chicken nuggets portioned out among the kids and nothing for the mother. Pocketing the new phone he’d just bought off of a kiosk, Clint winked at the kid and left the food court, casually dropping the Apple bag right by the kid’s foot while the mom wasn’t looking.

* * *

 

“We got him.” Tony was practically crowing as he entered Clint’s room. Rolling over, Clint grabbed the sheet and untwisted it from around his legs. Bruce at least looked rueful at the intrusion. Two more of Fury’s black ops missions and Clint was looking for a little bit of down time. He’d hoped that, between Pepper and Tony’s respective surgeries, Stark would be too busy to bother Clint for at least twenty four hours. A whole day of sleep, a nice long hot shower, and some serious bulking up on burgers and fries wasn’t going to happen, or so it seemed.

A video began playing on the wall; it took Clint only a second to recognize the woman working in the cubicle. “Melinda May,” he breathed as he sat up on the bed.

“Hold your linen,” Tony warned just before the figure walked into the camera frame, familiar blue suit and balding spot on the top of his head. “We don’t have sound; I’m working on it.”

“He’s inviting her to join his team. Says Fury let him choose who he wants. Something about … the Bus?” Clint tilted his head as if he could will Phil to turn towards the camera for a better angle. There was a slump to the man’s shoulders, the slightest hesitation in his step; no way was Phil back to full strength yet.

“Lip reading?” Bruce asked.

“Useful skill.” Clint shrugged; he was surprised neither man had mentioned his hearing loss. He kept that info quiet but it was in his files. Despite his hearing aids and successful cochlear surgery, Clint still had some issues.

“What’s the bus?” Tony asked.

“Big assed plane. We used to use them to fly teams around the world before the Helicarrier. Didn’t know any of those were still around. Find it and we find Phil.” Clint swung his legs over the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans. “Won’t be hard; the thing guzzles fuel and needs permission to use most airports.”

“You need the jet to get there?” Tony was offering, Clint knew, but that wasn’t the answer.  Whatever was going on, Clint could think of at least six different reasons why Phil would agree to keep his resurrection under wraps. Phil was a company man, through and through; if Nick gave him a good enough explanation, Phil would go along with it. Wouldn’t hesitate to blackmail Nick into the best team and supplies he could get, but, hey, Clint understood that impulse.

He shook his head. “Nah, let Fury think he’s still got his secret. Just knowing Phil’s alive is enough.”

“Is it?” Bruce murmured. Clint chose to ignore the question and the little pang in his chest when the video feed died.

* * *

 

“I know. I've seen giants, up close, and that privilege cost me, nearly everything. But the good ones, the real deal? They're not heroes because of what they have that we don't, it's what they do with it. You're right, Mike, it matters who you are.”

Clint watched Phil walk across the tile of Grand Central Station, making himself a target. The shaky camera video lost focus for a second before zooming in on Phil’s determined face; Clint paused the playback, cataloguing the dark circles under Phil’s eyes, the paleness of his skin. The stiffness in Phil’s gait was already on Clint’s list of clues. A suit that was slightly too big … it all added up to Phil not being ready to be back at work and maybe even something worse.

“Are you watching that again?” Steve had arrived back at the Tower just two days ago from his motorcycle tour/walkabout, as Bruce called it. More settled and less fragile, Steve was making an effort to get to know everyone, thinking about his options. He was talking about moving to D.C. and going to work for SHIELD; Tony, as to be expected, was trying to talk him out of it. “See anything new?”

“This one is different; JARVIS has been finding all the various videos uploaded and security camera angles for comparison.” Clint muted the sound and let the video play out until the man Phil was talking to was on the floor. The phone’s owner had jerked around, catching just a fleeting glimpse of some people on the balcony. “That’s Grant Ward, the sniper on the team. I’ve got pics of the others as well.” He flicked the pictures up as he named them. “Melinda May, pilot. Fitz, engineer. Simons, medical. And this girl. Even Tony can’t uncover anything about her. He thinks she’s a computer hacker because of the laptop in the backpack.”

Steve looked them over. “I thought SHIELD took all of those down.”

“Not before they stored the cached copies which Tony found. And JARVIS is very good at finding redundancies and reblogged posts.” Clint backed up to Phil’s face again.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Steve asked after a second of studying the image.

“What?” Clint wasn’t sure what he was asking. “Phil being out in the field when he’s obviously not physically ready? Hell, yes, but the man is damn stubborn and probably didn’t give Fury an option.”

“The new team,” Steve said. “You and Natasha were Phil’s team before, right? And these are his new team.”

Oh, he’d thought about it, especially on those long nights on stake-outs or holding position on yet another of Fury’s increasingly paranoid missions for Clint. The answer was obvious; Phil couldn’t use Clint anymore. Not with his trashed reputation and the lengths Fury was going to in order in ensure the WSC and others believed Clint wasn’t completely cleared yet. The cloud over his head made some interested parties think he just might be up for a new ‘arrangement,’ an idea Fury wanted out there. “I don’t begrudge Phil a new team. He’s a damn good handler and deserves to be doing what he does best. We were pretty much split up before Pegasus; Phil had been promoted to Level 8 and Natasha was doing deep cover.”

“But you stayed friends.” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. “Surely Phil would contact you. Assuming he can.”

“Yeah, we were actually better at it, in some ways. No worries about handler asset issues; I could crash on Phil’s couch after a few too many beers and not care about any rumors.” Clint shrugged for Steve’s benefit, but it had been nice. Phil had let Clint see a more relaxed side of himself after the promotion. Those were good days; shared take-out, ballgames, real honest-to-god going to the movies. Hell, Phil even tried the various recipes Clint made in his crappy kitchen and Clint kept a toothbrush and clean underwear at Phil’s for those nights he stayed over.

“Sounds like Phil was a good friend.” Steve’s smile was shadowed, a memory crossing his eyes. “At least you know he’s alive and well.”

* * *

 

“There’s quite a bit of damage to still take care of,” the SHIELD agent in charge was saying as he them through the devastation. “As you can see, we’re sorting out the alien tech first.”

Bruce clicked his teeth at the amount of damage done in what once was a beautiful old reading room at Greenwich. Malekith’s ship had crashed a wing through the windows which were now nothing but plastic sheeting held up to keep the London rain from getting in. The destruction looked all too familiar, like the aftermath of New York. For once, Clint found himself agreeing with Fury; something was off, didn’t make sense, or, truthfully, made far too much sense. Trouble was brewing and Clint already had his next directive; he was just stopping here on his way to a meeting to get the details.

“The other SHIELD team’s leader was right,” the agent continued. “Just once I’d like to see the Asgardians stick around to clean up after themselves.”

“Other SHIELD team?” Clint’s ears perked up at that phrase. “I thought you were in charge here.”

“Yeah, these guys are specialists in 0-8-4s; they showed up to check out the alien stuff. Too bad they got that call and had to run. We found a really nice, almost intact panel from the ship just this morning.” The agent glanced around as if looking for the item in question. “Their scientists were pretty excited about the stuff here. And I have a thing for smart brunettes.”

“Where did they go?” Clint continued, sure that the man was talking about Coulson’s team. Agent Simmons was a brunette and very, very smart. He needed to touch base with Tony to see if the Bus was in London and its latest flight plan.

“No clue. Something about an artifact, though. I heard that much.” He shrugged and kept talking as they walked through the organized mess. “Too bad the WSC can’t see the truth; things like this are why we still need a big SHIELD presence. No way you guys could have made it here in time. Forty-two minutes from the opening of the dimensions until the end of the fight.  Hell, it took us fifteen minutes to get the news and fifteen more to get boots on the ground, ready to go.”

Clint was only halfway listening; he was thinking instead of that old saying about ships passing in the night and the exasperated look Phil would give him at that trite phrase. That meant Clint was sure to say it a couple more times, maybe sing the cheesey Barry Manilow song under his breath just to annoy Phil.  He missed the agent’s phone buzzing as he thought about that smirk Phil gave when he was trying not to laugh at something stupid Clint was doing.

“Thor’s back.” The agent announced. “We have a detail on Dr. Foster’s house and he just walked through the door. We’ll need a team to go and …”

“We’ll go,” Clint offered. When the agent looked uncertain, he added, “Do you really want to piss off the God of Thunder by surrounding the house or appearing to be threatening? We’re friends. He’s much more likely to let us in the door. And I’ve met Dr. Foster and Dr. Selvig. They know my face.”

As they headed out, Clint started humming, smiling to himself.

_And it seems you and I are like strangers a wide way apart as we drift through time …_

* * *

 

“Where is he?” Clint demanded, slamming into Tony’s lab, making Dummy scurry out of his way. “ _How_ is he? Damn it, what is going on?”

“He’s back with his team.” Tony opened a window and started the playback of the video. Phil was in what looked like an office, sitting in an executive chair behind a desk. “Banged up pretty bad, but I sent you those files already. If you’d answered your phone, you would know all this.”

“Damn it, it’s called being undercover for a reason, Tony,” Clint bitched, as angry at the situation as he was with Tony. “I can’t just carry my Starkphone and answer your texts.” He stopped to look at the video; Phil was talking to a young woman with long brown hair. Bruises and scrapes marked his face, but it was the hopelessness that caught Clint’s attention. Phil was tired and he was letting other people see it. “How did you get this? That’s on the bus. Did you crack their system?”

“I’ve got an inside man.” Tony gloated. “Seems Miss Skye, no last name, computer hacker extraordinary, is a Tony Stark fan and a bit of a closet romantic. She called me for help when they were looking for Phil; wasn’t hard to convince her to keep feeding us bits of information.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Clint opened the files and began flipping through them. “Who’s this Ian Quinn? And Raina? The Clairvoyant? Fuck, Tony. I need to find out what all this is about, fast.”

“Fury got you dancing on strings again?” Tony didn’t wait for an answer, knowing Clint wouldn’t give one. “Here.” He pulled some cellphones out of a drawer and tossed them over to Clint. “Completely untraceable, no SIM cards, even SHIELD and the military don’t have this tech yet. All texts and calls are masked; they’re automatically replaced with a set of innocuous interchanges if anyone but you opens the phone.”

“NOKIA?” Clint actually snorted. “These look like pieces of shit.”

“That’s the idea. Toss ‘em when you need to and use another.” Tony grinned. “I’ll keep on this and set up a dead drop for the info. Don’t worry, the browser doesn’t keep a history so look at all the porn you want.”

“On this tiny screen …” Clint hit another button and a projected screen popped up. “I can’t keep these.”

“Keycoded to your biometrics. Seriously, no one else is getting in this thing. A mini-link to JARVIS is voice activated; words don’t matter, it’s the vocal intonation that does it.” Tony flipped information across the screen at a rate too fast for Clint to follow, pausing a picture of Melinda May helping a battered Phil up the ramp onto the Bus. “Screw Fury and his under the table shit. You should go yell at Phil, punch him once for me, and then help figure out what’s going on.”

God, but Clint wanted to. Tony could have him at the Bus’ location in no time flat. He’d make Phil go to sleep and watch his back then they’d kick some serious ass. Natasha would come if he called her, even if she was off with Steve doing SHIELD ops.

“If Phil wanted me there, he’d let me know,” Clint said. That was the rub; Phil hadn’t called. “Besides, what I’m doing is important. Something’s up, Tony, something that could be very, very bad. Worse than the Mandarin and Dark Elves. I’m going off the grid for a while. I need to leave my bow and some other stuff here at the Tower, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. You’ve got a secure locker on the practice floor. If that’s not big enough, we have other spaces you can use.” Tony looked at him, those always too knowing eyes cutting right through him. “Let me guess. Fury’s finally doing something about Project Insight? About time. He’s got holes in his security big enough to drive a Mack truck through and it’s leaking like a sieve to people on the inside. Since you’re person non-gratis around SHIELD, going to stage a big blow up with Fury … or Hill. I’d go for Hill, more believable … then disappear to worm your way into the bad guy’s gang?”

“Jesus, Tony,” Clint shook his head. “I can neither confirm nor deny, blah, blah, blah. Just don’t believe everything you hear about me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Check the damn phone regularly, will you?” Tony smirked at him, far too pleased with himself. “I have a feeling the shit is going to hit the fan sooner rather than later.”

* * *

 

One more day. That’s all Clint was giving this mission and then he was going back to the States. Shit was happening too fast to keep up with on the Coulson front, and Clint wanted to be there in case Phil needed him. Tony’s last message was confusing and garbled, something about John Garrett and a placed called the Guest House; Clint barely got beyond the information that Skye had been shot before he was ready to catch the next flight out of Tunis, cover be damned. He’d gotten nowhere trying to find the mysterious force that hovered on the edges of some really bad events. Sure, he’d gotten a ton of nibbles all wanting to hire him for a job, but they were drug cartels and gun runners … no super top secret cabals trying to take down SHIELD.

He palmed his phone and scrolled through the latest data again. Fast, it was all escalating too fast, the strangeness and secrets and lies falling in upon one another. Draining the last of his beer, Clint sat the empty bottle on the table and tugged his hood up over his blonde hair, the long locks falling in his eyes. Amazing what a little bit of peroxide could do to change his appearance. That plus a scar that ran down the side of his face, letting his scruffy five o’clock shadow make a permanent appearance, and wearing all black made him more dangerous. The two katanas crossed over his back helped keep most of the other mercenaries in the bar at bay; he felt naked without his bow and quiver, but they were far too identifiable. He wasn’t Clint Barton right now, but someone else entirely.

“Are you leaving?” the man asked. Ageless aside from the long slash that ran through one eye, a puckered line of a vicious wound, he was dressed far too well to be in this cantina. Clint waved a hand at the extra seat and settled back in his own chair.

“Thinking about it,” Clint replied. He catalogued the economy of movement, the air of authority. A glimmer in the man’s eyes, something burned hot there, a zealot but also a man of intellect.

“Your reputation precedes you, Ronin.” The man sat ramrod straight and stared at Clint. “I have need of a man of your skills.”

“I’m not cheap,” Clint opened the negotiations. “And if I don’t like you, I don’t deal. Once I take a job, I do it my way. And I always get it done.”

“As I said, I’ve done my homework. It’s a simple thing really; I need a failsafe, someone who can think outside the box and take down any target if they so much as twitch. The pay is … very generous … for a few weeks of your time.”

“A babysitting job? For my price? Must be one hell of a target.” Clint ran a list of possibilities in his head. Where was Bruce? Tony hadn’t mentioned him in the last few texts. Or Thor. Was he still in London? “I get paid one way or the other. Half up front, half when we part ways.”

“A good faith down payment of a third now. Another third when you arrive at the compound. The final when the job is done even if you just sit in your room the whole time. We’re prepared to offer …” He jotted a number down on a napkin and slid it over. Four times Ronin’s going rate. Damn. It had to be someone important.

He whistled, raising an eyebrow at the figure. “I’m going to need a bit more information, you understand, before I commit myself.”

With an incline of his head, the man gave a crooked smile. “You can call me Strucker. I need you to watch a pair of teenagers.”

* * *

 

The Triskelion was falling, pieces of helicarriers raining down over the Potomac basin. Grainy footage of a man with wings soaring down and catching Captain America played over and over on the news channels. Talking heads dissected intimate details of past missions, the whole scope of SHIELD laid bare for the world to see. So too was HYDRA, alive and well and out-of-the-shadows. The TVs were on an endless loop, every channel covering the destruction. Details were sketchy but the tension in the underground facility was palpable. Four days after the fall of SHIELD, it was still the story of the hour and the ripples were making themselves felt.

Clint kicked his boots up on the conference table, tilted his chair up onto two legs, and took out his phone, starting a game of Candy Crush. The others in the room fell silent watching the days old story play out, shifting, uncomfortable, unsure of what happened next. His own anxieties, Clint kept to himself, hiding behind a mask of disinterest. He had a grand total of three minutes to check for messages two days ago beyond the scope of the security cameras, smoking a cigarette, huddled in his jacket just outside the upper doors. Only Tony had checked in with a short list of those he knew were okay: Steve, Natasha, Maria, and himself. Fury, all the stations were reporting, had died in the attack. Of Phil, Clint knew nothing.

Only thing Clint Barton was certain of at this moment was that Phil Coulson was not HYDRA. No way in hell. Everyone else? Yeah, that was up in the air. But Phil Fucking I Love Captain America Coulson? Who answered the summons to jury duty despite having to hand an op off to another handler because it was his duty? Hell would freeze over before Phil joined a group bent on world domination.

“As you can see, there has been a chance in management.” Baron Von Strucker strode into the room and everyone fell silent. The only sound was the muted music of Clint’s game. “This is now a HYDRA operation. Those of you who wish to leave, may do so. Those who stay will swear allegiance.”

Nobody in the room believed they could actually walk away from this. The scientists, for the most part, had thought they were being hired by SHIELD; once on board this little operation, there was no way out. Two had tried to run; their bodies were added to the failed experimental subjects to be incinerated.

“Excellent.” Strucker’s mouth twisted in something that looked vaguely like a smile. “This accelerates our plan, of course. The takeover was moved forward; we shall have to do the same. I want extra security on the bunker and the twins.”

“Shouldn’t we evacuate?” One of Strucker’s pet doctors asked. “The spear cannot fall into enemy hands.”

“The twins can’t be contained for transport,” another argued. “We risk losing them.”

“We continue our work,” Strucker assured them. “No one knows of our program. And don’t worry about the twins. I have plans for them.”

This wasn’t a meeting; Strucker issued orders and people jumped to do his bidding, most of them happy to get out of the room as fast as possible. Clint ignored it all, playing level after level as if nothing mattered to him. Inside, however, he was frantic to act, to get the hell out of here and find the people who were his family. But he’d seen too much here, learned some very scary facts that were finally starting to add up. HYDRA made sense, growing inside SHIELD but there was more, something bigger, something … he couldn’t name it yet, but he knew he had to save those two kids in those cells. And he had to get back to Natasha and the others. Especially Phil.

“You don’t seem interested in being part of our organization,” Strucker said to him when the others had left.

“Look, as long as your money appears on time and spends well, I’m yours. Same as before." He shrugged as if it didn’t matter.

“Good. I trust that over false declarations. Be ready. As soon as the doctors gather the last samples, I’ll need your services. I assume you have a plan for each?”

Clint simply nodded. Yeah, he had a plan. Get Wanda and Pietro out of here before they were more of a liability than an asset. Then get them home. The how Clint was fuzzy on.

“Three days. Four at the max. We’re done here.” Strucker left Clint sitting at the table, wondering what to do.

* * *

 

They didn’t have time to stop long enough to make a phone call as they worked their way to the Mediterranean port of Annaba. The goal was simple; get the fuck out of Africa and land somewhere in Europe. God, but he hoped Tony got his last text; without Stark, Clint had no support of any kind. SHIELD was out; he didn’t know who would answer the phone. He’d tried to contact Natasha but got nothing. Six days and counting since the fall and he was pretty much on his own, running blind with two newly created mutants and Loki’s big ass spear which stuck out like a sore thumb.

“They’re coming.” Wanda’s eyes were closed as she stretched her senses out. “I’ve confused the trail, but …”

She was tired; they all were. Clint had literally taken them right off the doctor’s exam tables and out the door. They still didn’t completely trust him, but the two were just like Clint … they had nowhere to go. The days before SHIELD’s fall he’d spend building a relationship with the twins; thank God they were at least willing to listen to him.

His phone buzzed just as they jumpstarted a rattletrap car; Wanda took the wheel instead of her brother. “Tony. Look, I need an extraction and I don’t know who else to call.”

“I’m in the air right now and have you on GPS.  I’m only about four hours out from your location; had to swing over and get Bruce in Kuala Lampor. Ross has his knickers in a twist and thinks this is his opening to get his hands on the Hulk. Can you make it to El Kala? I know a guy with a villa there. Got his own landing strip.”

“We’ll be there.” Clint covered the phone and told Wanda the change of destination. “I don’t know jack shit here. What’s happening?”

“He’s alive.” Tony got that out of the way first. “But it’s bad, Clint. Garrett’s HYDRA and he led a prison break on the Deep Freeze or the Cooler or whatever cutesy name you guys are calling it.”

“The Fridge? Damn. Did all of the prisoners get out?” A cold ball settled in Clint’s gut. Audrey. If Marcus Daniels was freed, he’d head right back her way. Clint had been part of the mission the first time they caught Daniels and he’d watched the spark develop between the lovely cellist and Phil. Too married to his work, Phil’s list of relationships that lasted more than two dates was pretty damn short, just like Clint’s. Hell, they spent most of their time with each other; while Clint had been dating Bobbi, she’d complained that she was a third wheel in Phil and Clint’s “thing”.

It had been nice to see Phil enjoying himself, for as long as it lasted. Audrey was a good woman, just Phil’s type. Sensitive, sweet, classical beauty, and very cultured. And with a quirky sense of humor that made Phil do that little snorting thing when he found something sincerely funny.  Too bad Natasha had been right and it hadn’t lasted; Phil deserved to be happy. In the end, the long hours, little white lies, flat out secrets, and disappearing acts led to the same conclusion they always did. An Agent with a significant other was as rare as a unicorn in a brothel.

“All of them gone,” Tony said. “Phil dropped off the grid for a bit, but he’s on his way to Portland. Isn’t that where the cellist went?”

“We need to find Marcus Daniels. He’s got an obsession with Audrey; she had restraining orders but nothing stopped him.” Of course, Phil would fly to help her; that’s the kind of man he was. She might have moved away, but Phil would always watch out for the people he loved.

“Marcus Daniels, aka Blackout. Electrical manipulation, amplified by … hold on. What? Really? See? I told you SHIELD … HYDRA … whoever … couldn’t be trusted.” Tony’s voice faded out as he carried on a conversation with Bruce.

“Tony. Tony!” Clint tried to get Stark’s attention. “What’s going on?”

“The records from the Fridge. Seems scientists were experimenting on the prisoners. They ramped up Daniels’ powers; he’s three times as powerful as he was before. HYDRA was using your prison as a villain making factory.”

“Fuck.” Clint cursed; Phil was walking into a dangerous situation unprepared and Clint wasn’t there to have his back. “Can you get word to Phil? Who’s with him? Warn them.”

“You know, you could just give him a call. I’ve got his number,” Tony challenged him. “Warn him yourself.”

“Last thing he needs is to be distracted.” Clint didn’t want to have that conversation while both of them were in the middle of this mess. Besides, Phil might reconnect with Audrey and she could help him deal with the terrible things that had been done to him. Clint didn’t want to get in the way of that.

“Passive aggressive, Katniss.” The phone started to cut in and out. “Even I know you’re … avoiding … and Pepper says … socially stunted.”

“Shut up, Tony. Just be there to pick us up.”

“Us? Who’s us?” Tony asked before the line went dead.

* * *

 

“Okay, what the fuck is this?”

Clint stopped just inside the doorway to the main living room in the Tower, finally starting to feel like himself after six hours of uninterrupted sleep in an actual bed. The room was filled with people, all sitting and staring at him. Steve, Bruce, and Thor on the sofa. Natasha was sitting beside the new guy Sam on the love seat. Tony and Pepper were in the kitchen area, perched on bar stools. The kicker was Maria Hill who was standing by the big glass windows.

“It’s time to go see Phil,” Natasha said. Everyone nodded.

“Wait. Is this an …. Intervention?” Clint asked.

“Well, you certainly aren’t going to do it on your own. Get off your ass, get on the jet and go find your man,” Tony said. Pepper slugged him in the arm.

“What Tony’s failing spectacularly at saying is that Phil needs you and you need Phil,” Pepper tried to explain.

“No, he doesn’t,” Clint objected. “He hasn’t called and, besides, he’s got a new team to take care of him.”

“Ward’s HYDRA,” Maria announced. “And Garrett was the Clairvoyant. They wanted Phil to learn how Fury kept him alive.”

Clint’s face flushed and he could swear he heard Bruce growl. “Fucking son-of-a-bitch. Is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?”

“He took Skye hostage and ejected Fitz and Simmons out of the Bus into the ocean. Simmons is fine, but Fitz is in a coma,” Maria explained.

Tony jumped up. “I’m getting the suit. JARVIS find that bastard and point me in the right direction.”

“Ward is taken care of. Melinda nailed his foot to the floor and broke his larynx.” Maria, ever the fatalist, shrugged off Ward’s fate. “Phil had him dragged off in handcuffs and I suppose he’ll have to deal with Natasha after she finds out what he said about her.”

One lovely eyebrow raised in Maria’s direction. “Excuse me?” Natasha said.

“I believe his exact phrase was if Fury wanted ‘eye candy’ he should have picked you for Assistant Director.” Maria waited a beat; she was always good at playing a room. Natasha’s other eyebrow joined the first.

“Ouch,” Tony said, wincing. “Can I watch you kick his ass? ‘Cause I really love it when you go all super ninja spider on someone that stupid who isn’t me.”

“The point,” Bruce interrupted, “is that Phil could use someone he can trust right now. And you should be that person.”

“I agree,” Maria added. “Enough with the creepy stalking from afar. You and Phil both are the worst when it comes to dealing with feelings. Just go already.”

“Look, much as I appreciate the information, this is a little overwrought, don’t you think?” Clint was starting to get annoyed. What exactly did they think they were doing? It’s not like he was actively avoiding Phil. “If Phil needs me, he knows all he has to do is ask.”

A babble of voices all talking at once was cut short when Natasha unfolded herself from her seat and walked over to him. “You remember how Coulson always said that every Shakespeare play could be either a tragedy or a comedy? That there was one moment when the decision was made that lead to a happy ending or a dark one?”

“When Benedict confronts Claudio at the duel in _Much Ado_ or the letter to Romeo goes awry. Yeah, that was one of Phil’s favorite theories.” Clint could see the compassion in his friend’s eyes as she looked at him, and it unnerved him.

“This is the moment, Clint. Is this the type of story where you go on missing each other for the rest of your lives, some French existential drama that has no closure? Or is this one of those romantic comedies where you realize how wrong you’ve been and chase him down to tell him?” Natasha smiled then, a lopsided little curl of her lips that Clint knew was one of her real expressions. “Don’t be an idiot, Clint. We don’t have time for it.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clint told her, his stomach starting to roil in knots.

“Good God, these two deserve each other,” Maria muttered.

“Go. Talk to him. At least then you can have some sort of ending.” Natasha added.

They were all looking at him. What was he supposed to do?

“Okay, fine. I’ll go. Offer our help. Tell him he can give us a call. Will that suffice?”

* * *

 

“Agent Barton.” Melinda May was waiting for him as he walked down the exit ramp, her arms crossed over her chest. “About time.”

“Not you too,” Clint groaned, following her into the bunker. “I’ve got enough of that already, thank you.”

“When grown men stop acting like idiots, we’ll stop calling you on it.” She stopped in front of a doorway. “You break him, I’ll break you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he shot back as she left him standing there, making her way down the hallway. He stared at the door, the last barrier between them, such a flimsy thing really, easily taken down by a tiny lock bomb. Not that Clint was thinking about blowing anything up. Running maybe. A strategic retreat. Instead, he opened it and went through.

Phil looked … tired. Worn. Smaller than Clint remembered. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie loose, pants winkled. His blue eyes were shuttered, emotion hidden as he looked at Clint.

“Agent Barton.” Phil cleared his gravely throat and started again. “Clint.”

“Phil.” Unable to move, Clint’s brain ground to a halt, unsure of what to do next.

“If you’re going to take a swing at me, I’ll give you a free one. I deserve it.” Phil braced his stance for the punch he expected. “I should have told you, directives be damned.”

“Well, actually, Fury told everyone the medics called it, not that you were dead. Took us a while to track down where he’d stashed you, even longer to realize what was going on … hell, still don’t know everything, damn Fury and his squirreled away files … but, yeah, I’ve sort of been watching you.” The words came pouring out now that Clint had started. “Not in a creepy stalker way, just, you know, keeping tabs on you when I could.”

“Oh.” Now Phil was the one who fell silent for a moment. “So … you aren’t … why didn’t you …”

“Why didn’t you?” The band across Clint’s chest, the one he didn’t even realize he had, tightened and drew him a couple steps forward. “I didn’t want to … you had a new team … and I was doing Fury’s undercover ops …”

“Did you get Wanda and Pietro out? I don’t have secured channels yet in that part of the world …” Phil took two steps of his own, emotion seeping into his eyes. “I wanted to get a message to you …”

“Wait. You knew about my mission?” Clint blinked.

“One of my requirements for staying quiet about my resurrection. I had to know where you were at all times. Complete access to your files. Even the Director’s Eyes Only ones.” The corners of Phil’s mouth crept upwards. “Why anyone would believe you were a security risk, I’ll never understand. Anyway, I sort of watched you … while I was supposedly dead. In a sort of creepy stalker way.”

The band loosened just a bit and Clint drew in a breath; he’d been living with this stress and doubts so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to not have it bearing down on him. “They’re at the Tower, doing surprisingly well. Strucker’s still out there, but there’s another piece in play, not HYDRA, someone else pulling strings.”

“I know.” Phil sighed, his shoulders relaxing, tension bleeding out of his face. “There’s so much to shift through, HYDRA active, SHIELD assets compromised, and every vulture out there trying to feed on our not-so dead body. But you’re right. I think someone orchestrated this little coming out party to make both of HYDRA and SHIELD too weak to fight back. No way Garrett was the brainchild behind the plan; he was a pawn as much as Ward.”

“I’m sorry. About Garrett and Ward. And Sitwell. God, Phil. Is there anyone we can trust?” The closer he got, the more he wanted to reach out, to touch Phil, just to reassure him. “About Fitz … maybe Bruce can help or Tony can find the best specialists …”

“I’ll call Stark. We could use his help.” Phil gave a rueful grin. “Never thought there’d be a day when I trusted Tony Stark over some of my own people.” He grew serious again. “I trust my team; we’ve been through a lot together. Stark, Rogers, Banner … turns out being wary of Fury was a good bet after all. I trust Natasha with my life. And you … now that you’re here …”

He meant to put his hand on Phil’s arm, to give him a squeeze to say he felt the same way. But he was sliding his arms around Phil’s waist and drawing him in, closing the last distance between them. A hug, he thought, between friends, lost and found. That was okay. 

Then Phil’s arms were around him, Clint buried his face in the crook of Phil’s neck, his nose nuzzling just above Phil’s collar, and he smelled like Phil, like home and safety. The band cracked and splintered, leaving Clint free to drag in lungs full of Phil’s scent, and a teardrop hit the cotton shirt as Clint shuddered and tightened his hold, Phil’s hands flattening on his back, urging him nearer. Pulling his head back, Clint looked at Phil, their faces just inches apart, eyes wide with realization, and then they were kissing, the lightest brush of lips, tentative little grazes until Clint felt Phil’s lips part, and they exhaled together.

Books and movies always made it seem that revelations were momentous occasions, cracks of thunder, lightning striking, gasps and exclamations. This was the opposite, the crumbling of resistance into the sure certainty of his emotions. The thing he’d been denying so long sliding into place with a comfortable sigh of inevitability, so easy because he’d stopped fighting it.

Phil’s eyes were alight with his own surprise and acceptance. “Oh God, Maria and Melinda are never going to let me forget they were right.”

“I’ll take them over Natasha.” Clint snuck another little kiss, the newness of it too much to deny. “We really are morons, you know.”

“Morons with work to do. The Director’s job is never finished,” Phil sighed. They untangled themselves. “I need to call Stark about Fitz, check on the Maximoffs, meet with all the Avengers. Steve's going to go off hunting again down The Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson in tow. There are agents all over the world who need extraction and support, and I don’t know who to trust to get them. And I need to fire you.”

“Fire me?” Clint stared at Phil before he got it. “Because I’m already suspect and you need Ronin to figure out who’s HYDRA, who’s loyal to SHIELD and who the man behind the curtain is.”

“Maria can set you up with contractor status through SI, and the official word will be that you’re now entirely connected with the Avengers, not SHIELD. Makes it much easier for you to operate without anyone knowing what you’re doing.”

“And that means you’re not my boss anymore.” Clint might be terrible at the whole emotion thing, but this he understood. “Good. That means you can take me out to dinner since you owe me a six pack anyway.” At Phil’s raised eyebrows, Clint explained. “Maks won _Dancing with the Stars_ ; Derek came in second.”

Phil laughed with a little snort that made Clint's heart soar. “You know why I like Derek?  His ass is almost as nice as yours."

"Ballroom dance lessons it is, then," Clint smiled. "Now let's get to work."


End file.
